Thursday, January 31, 2013

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Hot with a Chance of Sexy: Tony Gonzalez



Admittedly, I am not a football fan, but I would think that given my propensity to drool over hot dudes, (Exhibit A:  All of my Hot with a Chance of Sexy entries) that at least one bitch I know who is a football fan would’ve told me about the cat in the photo to the left and I wouldn’t have only discovered his sexy ass right as he’s considering retiring from the NFL.  This hooka could sit through more than a couple of downs to glimpse the loveliness that is this man.

I don’t know if I have a thing for dudes born under the Chinese sign of the dragon, or if they just happen to hot, good athletes and actors, or what- but here goes another one:  Anthony David Gonzalez.  Pick an ethnicity, race, or nationality and it can be found somewhere in Tony’s heritage, which is a high-five for interracial relationships as far as I am concerned because all that complex coupling and mixing resulted in something simply beautiful being born on February 27, 1976 in Torrance, CA.

Look at this man- all 6”5 of him- and imagine slowing pulling yourself up that amazing body to arrive at the breathtaking monument that is his face. While he might not be handsome in the traditional, pedestrian way- which is not a bad thing- he’s is so mesmerizing and unforgettable, you would want to get amnesia to stop thinking about him.

And on top being physically stunning, he ain’t no dummy.  Gonzalez went to UC Berkeley and majored in Communications.  Then, while he was playing for the Chiefs he co-founded a commercial cleaning service in Kansas City.  In 2009 he co-authored the book The All-Pro Diet, and later that year, he co-founded All-Pro Science which is a sports nutrition company that manufactures vitamins, protein shakes, and other supplements.  So he’s innovative, driven, and plays well with others?  I’m just gonna go ahead and assume that he has a cape, can fly, and smells really good.

As though that's not enough, Tony is very active with the Kidney Foundation because his best friend is recovering from a kidney disease.  He also contributed to Shadow Buddies, a charity that works with hospitalized children, when he was in Kansas City.

Just in case you are already trying to find his Fortress of Solitude on Google Earth, I give you one more reason to search:  in 2008 while eating at a restaurant in Huntington Beach, Tony noticed a fellow diner choking and successfully administered the Heimlich and saved his life.  Gonzalez can also time travel and breathe underwater.  At least he can in my fantasies.

And I know all y’all bitches are wondering so I will tell you what you already know deep down:  There is not a cuddly puppy or fuzzy bunny in hell's chance that Mr. Gonzalez is single.  In 2007, he had a commitment ceremony with his gorgeous girlfriend, October, and they have considered themselves married since.  They have a son and a daughter together, and he has a son from a previous relationship.

I certainly hope that Tony decides to come back to the Falcons next year so that I can enjoy seeing his prowess on the field as much as I enjoy reading about his prowess in life.  He is officially my new hero in 2013 (sorry, Greg M Bruni, you're out.  You don’t have shit on this dude on a stick).

Fightin' Over Soy Sauce and Underwear...Well, that's One Way to Come Out, Kwame

I just can't. It's late and I'm hella sleepy. I'm gonna blame this foolery on booze and too many bumps on the head over the years on the field and say goodnight.  You can read the full article below from SFGate.com and here is the link:



Former 49ers and Raiders tackle Kwame Harris faces charges that he assaulted his boyfriend at a Menlo Park restaurant after an argument involving soy sauce and underpants, San Mateo County prosecutors said Monday.
Harris, 30, became angry with Dimitri Geier, 36, in August at Su Hong restaurant on Menlo Avenue, according to court documents.
The ex-football player got incensed when Geier tried to put soy sauce on Harris' rice, said Al Serrato, a San Mateo County prosecutor.
"Basically, they're having dinner together and they get into a verbal dispute and it gets violent from there," Serrato said. "One of them had poured soy sauce onto the rice and the verbal dispute had escalated."
Serrato said the men were romantically involved and previously had lived together. Geier, a resident of Los Angeles, was visiting Harris at the time of the altercation, said Craig Charles, Geier's attorney.
"They'd broken up and gotten back together a few times," Charles said. "It was not a formal relationship."
During the restaurant argument, Harris accused Geier of stealing his underwear, Serrato said. Harris then tried to pull down Geier's pants, the prosecutor said.
"I guess he was trying to prove that he was wearing his underwear," Serrato said.
Harris, 6-foot-7 and 240 pounds, then pinned Geier (6-1, 220 pounds) against a plate-glass window and hit him several times in the face and head, Serrato said.
Doctors at O'Connor Hospital in San Jose determined that Geier had sustained complex compound facial fractures that required surgery and the insertion of a metal plate, Serrato said.
Harris later was charged with felony domestic abuse with great bodily injury and assault with great bodily injury, prosecutors said. Harris pleaded not guilty in the fall and made a pretrial appearance Monday in San Mateo County Superior Court. He is scheduled to go to trial in April.
Defense attorneys did not return messages seeking comment.
Geier sued Harris in October in San Mateo County seeking unspecified damages. Through an attorney, Harris has denied all the suit's claims.
Harris went to Stanford and was the 49ers' first pick in the 2003 draft. He played five seasons for the team before signing with the Raiders as a free agent.
He played the 2008 season with Oakland, then was released. He has been out of football since then.
Will Kane is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. E-mail: wkane@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @WillKane


Read more: http://www.sfgate.com/crime/article/Kwame-Harris-charged-with-felony-abuse-4230112.php#ixzz2JLgXHKnB

Sunday, January 27, 2013

TYB (That's Your Boyfriend): Greg M. Bruni

I don’t even know what I love most about this story because it took wrong on a fantastic journey that included breaking and entering, nudity, cursing, guns, and sex pooping- but I love it.  The only other crazy shit missing from this tale is dancing brooms, Bugs Bunny in drag, and Joan Crawford in an evening gown in her midnight garden screaming at Tina to bring her an ax.

Greg M. Bruni has to be hating Facebook and his settings right now for making his ass and the rest of us aware of the fact that if news outlets can’t get your mugshot because you’re too naked or too in the hospital coming down, then they will use your Facebook pictures if they can get to them.  I do wish that I were friends with Greg just so I could see his other friends making fun of him because, well, how can you not make fun of a masturbating floor pooper?

Here’s the tea on how this whole veritable episode of “I (Almost) Got Away With It” (Opposite!) unfolded.  Greg Matthew (yes, I middle named him) evidently smoked/ ate/ injected/ ingested/ inhaled/ absorbed – pick a verb- something that fucked him up eight dirty days from Sunday, and his wrecked ass ended up on the rooftop of a house in North Fort Myers naked as the day he got arrested.  The homeowner heard something and when he went outside to investigate, Spider Greg jumped down, tackled him a la Gaesatae, and ran past the dude into the living room and broke a 72-inch television as he tried to pull it off the wall and steal it.  Bruni then started heading to “where guns were stored in the son’s bedroom,”-which is an entirely different blog that needs to be written- prompting the wife to fire three warning shots with her .38 revolver.  He still got in the son’s room, but was more interested in rubbing his face on the son’s clothes than finding the guns that were in there.

The shots must have scared him, though, because he fell to the ground and did what most of us do when we are terrified: he started masturbating.  The homeowner finally managed to call 911 and told the operators, “He run in my fucking house naked, hooting and hollering and tearing shit up.”  Oh, Greg.

Evidently the homeowner finally had enough of this bullshit and got a 12-gauge shotgun and held Bruni until the cops showed up.  How many fucking guns did they have in this house? Any road, when the cops showed up, Bruni was wallowing on the floor talking out his head and trying to get away, so they tasered him.  As they were taking him out of the house, deputies realized that since breaking into a house and shitting on the floor is the new black in Florida (see Brenda Schumann), they should check if Bruni was a Floridazy Fashionista. Sure enough, that mothafuka had taken a dump near the front door and also in a hallway inside the residence.  How long was this jackass in this house that he had time to do all this tackling, rubbing, masturbating, and pooping?  And how was he left alone long enough that no one saw him taking a couple of dumps?  I suppose those will be questions for the jury as Greg was charged with two counts of criminal mischief, battery, and occupied burglary.


To read the funniest/ raw version of of this story go here.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Friday, January 18, 2013

TGY (That’s Your Girlfriend): Floridazy! Brenda Schumann
















WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 16, 2013


TGY (That’s Your Girlfriend): Floridazy's Own Brenda Schumann


Oh, Florida.  Every time I think you are taking a step out of the swampy meth lab that is your borders, you take two steps back into the mire and I am forced to quote your matriarchal namesake from the 70s sitcom, “Good Times”, and say, “Damn! Damn! Damn!”

Much like my last relationship, I’m not sure what I want from you, State of Florida.  I’ve heard about the face eating, multiple incidents of side highway masturbation, and peeps dying in your roach eating contests.  And as much as I want Floridazy antics to end- like Jersey Shore- I can’t help secretly wishing for more (like Jersey Shore).  And if you pray to the right gods, as I evidently have, Florida not only gives you the 21st century Elephant Woman that is Mama Else from Real Housewives of Miami (sorry, she pissed me off when she called Obama an “animal”), you get Brenda Schumann.

Brenda Schumann.  Oh, Bren, Bren.  Girl, pretty is as pretty does, right?  Well, looking at her mug shot can pretty much tell you where this mess is headed and I once again find myself asking, “What are they cutting shit with in the Sunshine State?” And what is up with the homeless color-drip-catching garbage bag of a shirt she is rockin' in these photos? She looks like she came to at Supercuts and lost her mind at seeing her bleached, broke Blanche Devereaux hair-don't.

Some people chose to celebrate the winter solstice –the longest night of the year- by sitting around bonfires of burning Yule logs, or promising to spend more time listening and honoring the quieter rhythm of the season, or even sharing food:  This bitch decided to share her meth-induced crazy and terrify her estranged husband and his girlfriend.

According to KLTV, Donovan Schumann and his lady awoke to Brenda screaming, with a rifle no less, that she was going to “f*cking kill you both!”  While the estranged husband tried to wrastle (they don’t wrestle in Florida) the gun away, his girlfriend got kicked twice in the gut. I'm imagining that Brenda’s very brave and chivalrous soon-to-be-ex got the gun from her and yelled to his wounded and vulnerable girlfriend, “It’s every man for himself and God for us all!” as he slid some taxadermied deer antlers and a singing fish to the front of his makeshift panic room (that we all know as a closet) and barricaded himself inside.  Seriously, dude?  You have a rifle, and one would assume, testicles, and your plan “A” is to leave your girl alone to fight your meth-raged, Everclear fueled wife?  I’m sure once the reality of his cowardice sunk in the girlfriend probably tried to kick him in the balls, but being unable to locate them, settle for snatching the rifle out of his trembling hands and beat him about the head with the butt.

But, back to Brenda.  Our delicate flower of a protagonist may have been no longer armed, but she was dangerous in an untrained, mangy mutt kind of way and peed all over the carpet outside of their bedroom.  I can only assume that she must have felt sick to her stomach for doing that because when she got to the kitchen, she took a dump on the floor.  Yes, you read that right.  A 51-year-old woman shat on the kitchen floor at her estranged husband’s house.  Perhaps it was because her 51-year-old body functioned like her 81-year-old looking face and she simply lost control of her anger-fueled-Vicodin controlled bodily functions.

When the cops arrested her at her apartment down the street (where does the foolery end?  She lives down the street?) Bren said that she found her man in bed with a naked chick and asked, “What else could I do?”  Well, Bren, there are lots of things that you could’ve done that I can think of and none of them involved a loaded rifle or shitting on the floor.  But that’s just me- somewhat sober.

Regardless of what had happened for reals, I thank you, Brenda, for this story and for ending 2012 with the code red crazy with which it began.  I shudder and giggle at what you and your cell block “H” brethren  have in store for us this year.  Given the crazy that y'all have shown us for a while now, I’m betting that Floridazy is gonna sashay across the stage of world and bring home the blue ribbon for twisted, wrong, and jacked up in 2013 as well. 

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Thursday, January 10, 2013

Something on my Mind-Grapes: Naomi Campbell

When I first heard the other day that Ms. Thang Naomi Campbell was mugged and injured on a Parisian street while trying to hail a cab over a month ago, my mind went into overdrive. Especially when they initially said that she didn't file a police report. While I obviously wasn't there to say it didn't happen- I haven't been to Paris since I flew there on a whim over a decade ago and ended up meeting and making out with Johnny Depp at the Buddha Bar in a dream I had- something about the story rang false. Mainly it was that I have a feeling that after decades of limousines, yachts, and private jets, Naomi doesn't even remember what a cab is.  The notion of her standing on the street waiting- what the fuck is "waiting"?- for some random person who smells like broken dreams and fast food to stop and collect her, is probably as foreign to her as the fact cellphones are not weapons of assistant destruction.  If a multimillionaire hit on Naomi right now she would probably pat him on the head, tell him his financial situation was "cute" and to come back when he has "big boy money."  She is not going to be standing in the street like a "non-special".  Bump that. Bitch takes her 1000 mg "I ain't the one" tablets 3 times a day and she is not having that.

So, of course, with my over-driven aforementioned mind, I thought that something far more seemingly inline with the wrath of Campbell must have gone down:  I was really hoping that maybe, just maybe, she was with Vlad the (Naomi) Impaler and they got in some simple lovers' exchange which quickly devolved into her catwalk stomping her phone into a Chinese Throwing Star, and sending it shooting at her man when he went for her ego's jugular and told her something like her 100% Chinese Virgin full lace wig looked like she bought it in a Ziploc bag at Ratchet Discount Hair Bins. Vlad, having a wife and girlfriend who both know of each other, would obviously know how to do a Matrix backbend and dodge a hurled object.  I imagined that after he stood back up and said, "No, this bitch just didn't" in Russian a few times, he came her Ike style and she injured herself trying to jump up too fast in four and a half inch Louboutin Guerilla spikes to teach him some Tyson shit she learned back in the day from Mike.  I envisioned that they went a few rounds mano-a-mano before passion took them in a different direction and they fell on the ground and dirty-verbed each other until she realized something was wrong when she couldn't get her leg from around his neck.

Well, sweet dreams aren't made of that because in the updated report via the New York Post, the incident- minus the cab- really did supposedly happen in front of the home/workplace of designer Azzedine Alaia. And there was a police report which stated the incident happened on November 21st. Two bikers were allegedly trying to gank her bag, but they didn't get it.  She is a for real kinda bitch, and for that she gets a standing slow clap from me:  Naomi would rather tear a ligament than give up her "you could die, come back, live to be 100, and still never afford this bag" bag.  The report said that she tore the ligament when she fell, but with those long ass legs and her (understandable) rage, she probably did it when she touched the back of her head with her wind up kick and tried to soccer ball their heads down Rue de Don't Fuck With Me like she was taking a penalty shot in the World Cup.

After the attack,Vladimir Doronin, her billionaire boyfriend, whisked her off to Vail, CO. to an orthopedic specialist and upped her security. Speaking of her boyfriend, in light of reports about this mugging, many people who didn't know much about him, are outraged that Naomi is booed up with a married man.  Whatevs. According to everything I've read, he and his wife had been living separate lives for a decade before he met Naomi.  And get this, he supposedly had a seven year relationship with another woman before Naomi that his wife knew about as well.  Apparently, the two of them continue to co-parent their 15-year-old daughter, and he reportedly takes excellent financial care of both of them. Obviously the situation isn't ideal, but it sounds like he's at least honest about things and tries to keep the peace as much as he can- and from the photo above, it seems as though they can at least make nice for pictures.

There have been rumors swirling since last spring that his wife is planning to divorce him, but even if she has said it, I don't believe she will really do it.  Why would she? First off, since killing a spouse so you don't have to payout in a divorce settlement is evidently the new black, she's lucky that he didn't do that in the first place (and I know that's a sad testament about the state of the world that I am praising someone for not killing their spouse over money but there ya go).  Secondly, if you watched even one episode of Russian Dolls on VH1 then you are as pathetic as I am, but you also know that Russian broads don't play. I'm sure she and Naomi try to out-bitch each other at every possible turn, and probably grudgingly, secretly respect each other for it.  That being said, if I were his wife I would try to checkmate a bitch legit and NEVER, EVER divorce him- and rejoice in Naomi's fury as I told the world my lie, and ran up behind her in her rehab wheelchair, whispering the truth in her ear.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Hot with a Chance of Sexy: Axel Witsel

Sometimes when you traipse through the mundane, you end up stumbling upon something special or unusual. Like a unicorn- or a friendly little girl ghost named Emily. Or better still, a brotha with a huge afro and blue eyes. What?!  Yep. Unlike reading about something in fairy tales or hearing about something else from my stoned roommate like the first two, I actually saw the third one with my own two eyes. This blue-eyed, afro-dized brotha is named Axel Witsel, which evidently translates from some ancient, forgotten goddian language (yes, I like to make up words) and means "uniquely striking beauty".  And I found out he lives and breathes when I was visually walking around the internet reading about racism in European football (more on that below).

This 6 ft 1 in, multi-lingual, Zidane lovin', Capricorn/Dragon midfielder was born on January 12, 1989 in Liege, Belgium.  His father Thierry Witsel was also a footballer who played for a small club in Belgium, and still plays in the Belgian first division of mini-football (indoors).  I mention his pops so much because he is hella cute and while I know good black don't crack, this is just retarded:  Look at this man! How old was he when he had Axel? Three?!  He looks young enough to be Axel's slightly older hot friend who is juussst old enough for me "to (insert a verb)". And you know you would too, so shut it.

Axel started playing football when he was 4, and was taken into Standard de Liege when he was 9 where he did all of his youth categories.  Then it was onto Standard's professional team when he was 17.  After leaving Standard, he went onto Benfica in Portugal where he played until he decided to put his life in his own hands by signing on to to play with Zenit St. Petersburg on September 3rd of last year.  I say that for those of you who don't follow football and don't know how notoriously racist many Russian fans are:  They are so racist that the Zenit fan group Landscrona released a "manifesto" about their dream Zenit team that started with, "We're not racists, but..." I don't even need to finish quoting the rest of the sentence because you know some jacked up shit is coming.  Why?  Because we all know that one of the quickest ways a  racist can  reveal him or herself is to utter the aforementioned, "I'm not racist, but..."  Luckily Axel is not the only person of color in this den of bigotry as he was signed at the same time as former Porto rival, the Brazilian, Hulk- and they join Portuguese defender Bruno Alves, who signed in 2010.  To read the whole article about the douchebags of Landscrona, click here.

The soon-to-be 24 year old Witsel is booed up with a Romanian woman named Raefella Szabo.  I tried to find information about her online, but when Google translate informed me that she is a "he" and instead of "girlfriend", called her "millionaire friend", I figured I would simply leave you chirruns with the photo below and the knowledge that she and her breasts live with him in St. Petersburg.


Axel, I hope you have a fantabulous 24th birthday and I hope those foolish fans at Zenit don't make you have to pull a Boateng, but if so, I will cheer for you as I have for him!



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